And That's Why I Got an 80 in Math
by Kits
Summary: The original solo Mary Sue.


"And That's Why I Got An 80 in Math!"  
By Kits  
  
  
  
Hogan, dressed in dark black pants and sweater, rubbed shoe polish over his cheeks, carefully avoiding the lock of wavy hair that dropped onto his forehead. Gallant and dashing, he tucked his gun into his waistband, and began to descend the ladder down the tunnel. The others quickly followed suit.  
Suddenly, Schultz walked in and noticed the men in the tunnel. Shielding his eyes, he gasped, and averted his eyes, moaning,   
"I know nothing! Nothing!"  
"Miss Lafner, if you don't know the answer, a simple 'I don't know' would suffice. Now please pay attention," the teacher reprimanded a girl with blushing red cheeks in the first row.  
"Man, is this boring!" Kits sighed apathetically as she tapped her pencil rhythmically against the side of her desk.  
  
"Divide this number by two, then multiply by 100, find the square root of the variable through inverse operation and geometric squares, and you come out with..." the teacher droned on.   
  
"I think I was born a few decades late," Kits sighed, again daydreaming about her favorite TV show, "Hogan's Heroes". Suddenly, the room started spinning wildly, and the 13-year-old girl found herself getting dizzy. A gaping hole opened underneath her desk, and briefly she realized that this was shaping up to be a horrible day.  
  
With a loud *thud*, Kits landed on a hard dirt floor. "Oww!" The teenager glanced around; there were wooden beams holding up what appeared to be a tunnel to the sides of her. *Wham!* "Oi," Kits complained, rubbing her head. Her black backpack, full of various books, and other junk, fell squarely on her head. "Well, at least I have something useful in here," she exclaimed triumphantly, rifling through the contents to find a piece of gum.   
  
"Who's there?" a deep voice called.   
  
"Uh-oh... I don't think I'm supposed to be here," she said in a singsong voice laced with worry. "Time to play invisible Kits!" Shrinking against the wall, hoping her T-shirt and jeans would blend into the shadows, she held her breath and waited for the owner of the voice to appear.  
  
"Hello?" the voice asked again. This time, the owner did appear, but with his face dissected by shadows and only the wavy black hair visible, Kits failed to recognize the handsome figure. 'Boy, is he hot! A little too old for me, though,' thought Kits, as she watched him. The harsh shadows only accented his features, making him look very much the part of a dark and dangerous knight. So far, she had been unnoticed. She just hoped her luck held out. Of course, it didn't.  
  
"Hey! What are you doing here?" the man turned as he spotted her. Kits gasped, and her eyes widened as she realized who it was.  
  
"Oh my GOD!" Kits cried. "You're... you're... you're COLONEL HOGAN!"   
  
The officer's eyes narrowed, and he stared suspiciously at the girl, who had quickly covered her mouth after blurting out his name.  
  
"How do you know my name?" he asked.  
  
Kits shrugged and gave a small, uncertain smile. "Um... I'm psychic?"  
  
One eyebrow arched, and he crossed his arms. "Uh-huh. I'm supposed to believe you?"   
  
Kits hung her head. "It'd really be nice if you did..."  
  
"Well, I'm not, so you better come up with an explanation real fast."   
  
"What's goin' on, guv'nor?" another voice-she recognized as Newkirk-echoed down the dark tunnel. Hogan didn't answer, just stood, glaring at Kits, who was shuffling her feet and clearing her throat.  
  
"Whoa... 'o's this?" the Briton questioned when he noticed the new arrival.  
  
"I don't know," Hogan answered curtly, never taking his eyes off Kits.  
  
Inside, the previously bored-to-death schoolgirl was thinking as fast as she could. 'If I tell him the truth, he'll think I'm nuts. I could run away, but... where would I go? I guess I'll have to tell him some partial truths... just to buy some time.' Looking around, Kits noticed that the men had quickly formed a half-circle around her, preventing any possible chance of escape. 'Plan B, I guess.'  
  
After taking a deep breath, Kits held out her hand, and smiled broadly. "Kits Lafner, nice to meetcha!"  
****************  
"How did you get here?" Kinch said. Kits sighed and fit him with her best glare. For the past thirty minutes, they had been trying to pry any information out of her by asking idiotic questions she could easily evade.   
  
"I told you-" she began, but was cut off by Newkirk.  
  
"You were followin' a white rabbit, and fell down a bleedin' 'ole!" he snorted. Kits managed to frown at him before quickly smiling and replying in a sarcastic voice,  
  
"Yes, and you must be the Mad Hatter." LeBeau, the short Frenchman snickered, and Newkirk turned to nudge him in the ribs. Hogan glared at them both, and they quickly stopped their horseplay.  
  
"Alright, so say it is true. You were in the woods-for some reason you won't explain-and you found a tree trunk, sat down, and said it sounded hollow. So you checked it out. If that is true-"  
  
"Scout's honor! I swear!" Kits protested with as much indignance as she could manage.   
  
"You were a Boy Scout?" a young blonde named Carter asked eagerly. Newkirk doffed his hat, which the sergeant quickly straightened back on his head. LeBeau just sighed with despair.   
  
"Sure I was. Don't I look like a boy?" The girl rolled her eyes.   
  
"Cut the sarcasm. Are you German?" Hogan continued after giving a long-suffering look to the suddenly sheepish sergeant.  
  
Kits looked at him, then glanced down at her clothes. She was wearing tattered blue jeans-she had noticed some curious looks from that, which she figured was due to the time period she had landed in-and a black T-shirt with some cat hair spread liberally around it. The men had also gave her funny looks when they noticed the crystal stud in the top portion of her ear. She smirked inwardly. 'Of course *that* definitley it's definitely wasn't normal!'   
  
"No, I am not. Do I LOOK German to you?"   
  
"You don't," Hogan stated, "LOOK like anything. So why don't you tell us the truth?"  
  
"Ok, fine. I'm actually from February 2002. I was in math class, and a giant hole swallowed me and transported me here." Just for fun, and also to confuse the men, she elaborated and embelished the story. "My theory is aliens transported me here, and you're actually a bunch of brain-washing teachers trying to corrupt the children of the world through the never-ending assignments of homework. Happy?"   
  
All the men either groaned or sighed, and she leaned back in her chair, satisfied with her answer.  
  
  
Hogan stared at the girl who leaned back in her chair, looking undeniably smug about something. They had asked her questions that she may have answered truthfully, but some were obviously lies. He rubbed his temples.   
  
'I don't need this... a mission from London... and now this!' He sighed and looked up. The girl was smiling at him. 'Expecting another question, probably.'  
  
" 'Ow old are you?" Newkirk inquired. "Fourteen?"   
  
"Mm..." Kits answered noncommitedly. 'What if he thinks I'm older than I am? Maybe it'll help later.'  
  
"It doesn't matter. What's an American girl doing in the middle of Germany?" said Kinch.  
  
Kits stared at them. 'Uh-oh... that one I can't explain...' "Uh... can I get back to you on that?"  
  
Hogan continued staring at her. 'Ok, fine... time to try the please-believe-me-sir thing.'  
  
"Listen, I'm telling you the truth. I'm American. I don't even SPEAK German!" she said earnestly. The Colonel finally jerked his head, motioning with his chin to move over into a corner of the room.   
  
"She's not a spy, because she obviously lacks some social skills, and besides that, it seems like she's pretty unsure of her answers," LeBeau declared. The others nodded.   
  
"No, she may not be, but like Kinch asked, what's an American girl, fourteen, doing in Germany?" Carter challenged.  
  
"I don't know, fellows. Let's just keep quiet around her," Hogan ordered. "For God's sakes, keep your mouths shut, and don't let her wander!"  
  
Relief flooded him with that final command, and, sparing one last look at the teenage girl leaning back in a chair in a small room, he shook his head and started up the ladder. 'I need some sleep,' he thought to himself. 'And figure out what to do with her, and London's mission.' A sudden thump behind him made him bang his head against the rung above him. 'I knew I should've told her not to lean back in that chair.'  
  
  
  
Newkirk glanced at the girl whom he was playing cards with. She had already lost to him several times-he didn't even cheat-and had finally grown frustrated enough to insist she play a game she could win.  
  
"Know how to play 'Speed'?" she asked. He arched an eyebrow.  
  
"What?"   
  
"Um, guess not... here, I'll teach you. Alright, we each get half the deck. Now take four cards, put them there," she motioned to a spot near the left edge of the table, "and two here." She motioned to the right of the first stack. He complied, and she quickly did the same. "Now, we each flip this card, and put down a card either above or below it." She chuckled a bit. "Except on Tuesdays."   
  
"Except on Tuesdays?" Newkirk repeated, slightly bewildered.  
  
She looked at him and sighed. "Never mind... it's a Star Trek joke," Kits explained.   
  
"Star Trek?"  
  
"Are you a parrot or what?" she asked sarcastically. He shot her a glare, before starting to play.  
  
10 Games Later:  
  
"SPEED!" Kits cried, throwing her last card sloppily onto the pile. Newkirk groaned, and put down his hand of cards.   
  
" 'Ow often do you play this?" he asked, looking at her suspiciously as she gathered the cards and shuffled them expertly.   
  
"I play all the time with my mom."  
  
"Your mom?" he echoed.  
  
"You're doing it again," she complained, grinning at him broadly.   
  
"No, really. What's she like?" the Brit pried, hoping for some useful information, maybe about where she was from or other tidbits.  
  
"She's my mom," the teenager said, as if that explained everything. "I mean, c'mon. What's to say about her?" She shrugged, and Newkirk sighed.   
  
'She doesn't know 'ow lucky she is," Newkirk thought mournfully. How many times had he thought the same when he was a teenager? And then his mom had died... He shook his head roughly. If he didn't think of it, it couldn't hurt him.  
  
  
  
Corporal Newkirk suddenly was quiet, and a sad look came over his face. Kits tried smiling.  
  
"Hey, are you awake? I have yet to beat you at another game," she said.   
  
"No thanks. I've been beaten too many times, and I think it's past your bedtime anyways."  
  
Kits looked insulted. "Bedtime?" she acted mystified at the word. "What's that?"  
  
"Ha ha. Go to bed, munchkin," Newkirk laughed. He knew Colonel Hogan wouldn't approve, but he couldn't help but trust the friendly girl. Already he forgot the suspicious conditions she had appeared in.  
  
"Don't call me munchkin," Kits grumbled. Newkirk showed her where she could sleep; she grimaced at the cot, then quickly took a deep breath, and settled down. Newkirk said goodnight, and headed 'upstairs' where he could get some sleep.   
  
"Hey!" the girl cried.  
  
He turned. "What?"  
  
"When's breakfast?" Kits looked at him innocently.   
  
"When we bring it down here. Stay here, alright?" Newkirk ordered, glancing at her suspiciously.  
  
"Oh, fine. Be that way." She sighed. "I hope I can stay. I'll try my best."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" the corporal cocked his head.  
  
"Um... never mind. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
  
"Right. Just stay here." And with that final note, he left.  
  
(Time Passes... It usually does, come to think of it. Except in English. Man, that lady could drone on forever! Shutting up...)  
  
Morning came early, and before she knew it, a hand was shaking her shoulder.  
  
"Ah, geeze, Chris, can't I get any sleep?" she muttered.  
  
"Chris?" the Brit asked, puzzled. "Wake up, Kits. It's Newkirk."  
  
"Alright, lemme get just five more minutes, Newkirk," Kits mumbled.  
  
"And you were so eager for breakfast last night?"   
  
"Breakfast?" Kits immediatly. sat upright, looking around for food. Newkirk cocked his head and held the plate up. "Alright! Thanks!"  
  
She dug into the food with a ravenous appetite. The corporal who served her the food watched the food disappear before his eyes.  
  
"Blimey..." he said under his breath. Kits grinned. They didn't call her stomach the "bottomless pit" for nothing. "You eat as much as Schultz," he added.  
  
Luckily, Kits's mouth was full, so she didn't blurt out that it wasn't true. 'Great, K. Why don't we totally give away everything?' she thought to herself, disgusted.  
  
"Well, I'm glad to see you CAN stop talking once in a while," Newkirk joked.  
  
"I don't talk when I'm asleep," Kits defended herself.  
  
He arched an eyebrow. "Are you kiddin'? When I came down 'ere, you were talkin' up a storm in your sleep!"   
  
Kits loked up worriedly. "What'd I say?"   
  
Newkirk shrugged. "I didn't listen that closely." Kits sighed. She was afraid her overactive mouth had given something away. "Listen, munchkin," he began, smiling with gleeful pleasure when Kits grimaced, "I gotta go. Don't wander around."   
  
The man climbed up the ladder, and Kits looked around, sighing in the darkness.  
  
  
  
"Schultz! Report!" Klink called, wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the chill. "Report!"  
  
"Herr Kommandant, I beg to report-" Schultz stuttered when he noticed that one prisoner was missing.  
  
"That all are present and accounted for, Schultzie!" Newkirk shouted, quietly slipping into formation.  
  
"That is right," Schultz smiled happily, glancing quickly at the formerly missing prisoner, and then back to Kommandant Klink.   
  
"Diiiis-missed!" Klink saluted, then executed a sharp about-face to head into the warmth of his office.  
  
"Kommandant," Hogan trotted to the steps of Klink's office. "I need to talk to you about-"  
  
"Go away, Hogan! I don't wish to discuss anything now!" And with that, Hogan was left staring dumb-founded at the closed door of the building.   
  
  
Meanwhile in the barracks, LeBeau, Newkirk, Carter, and Kinch were having a lively discussion about the upcoming mission. Carter was the main figure, talking animatedly about explosives, and the rest were attempting to silence his babbling.  
  
Hogan suddenly walked in with a dark look on his normally pleasent features.  
  
"And boy, that munitions depot will go sky high! I have some explosives-" Carter rambled.  
  
"Carter, give it a rest, will ya?" Hogan glared at the boyish young man.   
  
"Yes, sir," Carter obeyed, looking hurt.   
  
Hogan sighed, and patted the sergeant on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Carter," he apologized shortly before retreating into his room.  
  
"Gee, wonder what's eating him?" Carter asked the other guys.  
  
"I'm guessing the mission, Andrew," Newkirk said.   
  
"And on top of that, the girl," LeBeau added. Everyone nodded in agreement.  
  
  
(It's Night Now and the Boys *ooh la la* Are Getting Ready to Carry Out the Mission)  
  
  
"Alright, everything ready? It's just a routine job. Carter and LeBeau, you're in charge of planting the bombs. Newkirk and I will be on lookout. Got it?" the Colonel checked.  
  
A chorus of "yes, sir's" and "right, sir's" reached his ears, and he frowned, but still nodded the go ahead. Right before leaving, Kinch caught his CO's arm.  
  
"What's wrong, sir?" the black man questioned.  
  
"Nothing, Kinch. I don't know, I just have a bad feeling about this," Hogan explained, shaking his head. "It's probably nothing. Mind the store, huh?"   
  
The dashing commander climbed the ladder shortly after LeBeau, timing his exit to avoid the searchlight.  
  
Kinch whispered a brief prayer. Colonel Hogan's instincts usually turned out to be right, but this was one time he wished it wasn't so. Sitting at the table, he monitored the radio with all his concentration.  
  
  
  
Kits once again tried to make shapes out of the dirt ceiling, but gave up. "It's not the same," she said to herself. Turning her head to the left and yawning widely, she looked around for something to do. Suddenly, she heard a small commotion coming from the section of the tunnel she had most unfortunatly landed in. Curiousity getting the best of her, and trying hard to not think about the phrase, 'curiousity killed the cat,' she wandered over to the noise, trying to be as quiet.  
  
"It's probably nothing." 'Bingo. Definitly Colonel Hogan,' she identified the voice immediatley. Indistinguishable mumurs followed, and she came around the corner, peering curiously to see a black man tapping furiously at a radio. 'Cool. I wonder what he's doing.'  
  
"Damn!" the man cursed. Kits grinned. Suddenly, the man looked straight into her brown eyes. 'Uh-oh,' she winced. "What are you doing here?" he asked. He shook his head, and motioned for her to leave, which she blatantly ignored. "Never mind. I gotta get to the Colonel and fast!"   
  
"Why?" Kits asked, sounding like a 6-year old. She leaned forward, intent for some action while she was here. So far, she hadn't even gotten a guy, and *that* was simply unacceptable. 'K, you're 13. What do you expect? These guys are way older than you.' She sighed. Life was so unfair.  
  
"There's no reason for you to know. I need to get to him NOW!" He brushed past her and she followed him, hoping for an exciting mission of some sort.   
  
"Sure there is. Maybe I can help. Whatcha need?" she persisted. Finally, he whirled around and growled at her. She gulped, and speedily backed up, almost losing her balance.  
  
"You," he declared, shoving a finger in her face, "are a nuisance, and you cannot help. I don't even know if you're German or not, and this is way too important to be trusting it to an inexperienced little teenager who arrived in suspicious circumstances!"   
  
"Geez," Kits grumbled. "I haven't left yet. If I were German, I could've left by now, contacted whoever, and totally killed y'all. Ever think about that? But I haven't! Now let me help!"   
  
Kinch stopped. "Can you run fast?"  
  
She put her hands on her hips and, exasperated, complained, "What has *that* have to do with anything?"  
  
"I knew it. Go away!"He strode towards the ladder again, his long legs taking huge steps, quickly closing the gap between the wooden structure and himself.   
  
'Now or never, Kits!' "Alright! I'm sorry!" Kits apologized. "Yeah, I was one of the fastest in my class. Why?"  
  
Kinch debated with himself whether or not to trust this girl. Finally, he decided to let her help. "I'm gonna give you some directions to this munitions depot. I need you to run there as fast as you can, and tell Colonel Hogan that it's a trap," Kinch ordered.  
  
"Alright. Just ONE question," Kits readily agreed, thrilled for some action. Kinch scribbled some directions hurriedly down.   
  
"What?" he replied distractedly.  
  
"Why me?"   
  
"Because if they caught me out there, they'd automatically think I was an escaped prisoner. Then they'd take me back here, the others would be in trouble still, and I'd have to explain how I left camp!" On 'camp', he finished writing, and ripped the paper and handed it to her. "You're the only one left that won't have that problem."  
  
"Gee, thanks. Nice to know you trust me out of pure faith and belief in human nature," the teenager muttered sarcastically, climbing the ladder as quickly as possible.   
  
"I hope I'm doing the right thing," Kinch thought as he went back to his post to wait, and pace.  
  
  
"Alright, guys, this is it. Does everyone know what to do?"   
  
"Yes, sir," everyone answered, and waited for Hogan's command to go ahead, but Hogan hesitated.   
  
"Something's off," he said to himself, his eyes sweeping for anything noticeably wrong.  
  
  
Running through the woods as quietly and stealthily as her legs would allow, Kits made her way throught the dense underbrush when she suddenly met up with a patrol.  
  
"Achtung! Halt!" a sharp German voice called.  
  
'Don't think so, babe,' Kits thought, dodging the corporal.   
  
"Who are you? What are you doing?" another voice suddenly asked. Looking up, she met eyes with a rather tall, impressive looking sergeant. 'Oh man,' was all she could think of.   
  
Kits suddenly put on a little girl voice. "I'm looking for my parents. We went on a picnic this morning, and I went to play, but now I can't find them." 'Oh, geez, that was lame,' she thought to herself. Luckily, she was rather small for her age and figured what the guard lacked in brains he probably made up in brawn. Much to her relief, he accepted the answer.  
"Where do you live?" he questioned. She looked around.   
  
"Uh, over there, I think," her reply came. The girl motioned towards the left of him. As the guard swung his head around to glance in the implied direction, Kits kicked him in the shins; it was the only thing she could think of to do.   
  
"Sorry!" she called from over her shoulder as she ran away from the cursing guard. Her legs carried her swiftly through the forest and she briefly paused to read what direction the people she was supposed to be saving were.   
  
Kits deciphered Kinch's writing, and made it to the spot where Hogan and the others should have been. Looking ahead, she saw they were a few yards from her. Groaning inwardly as her feet protested the movement, she once again traveled through the unfamiliar, dark woods.  
  
"Wait!" she gasped, as she saw Hogan motion for the men to move out. Newkirk, recognizing her voice first, turned around and started at the site of the panting girl. "Geez, louise! I think I'm gonna pass out."  
  
"What are you doing here?" Carter asked the obvious question.  
  
Annoyed, she couldn't help but reply, "Nice to see you too. Actually, I'm here to save your necks." LeBeau's eyebrows shot up skeptically.  
  
"How?"  
  
"The munitions dump is a fake. It's really a trap."  
  
"And you know this because?" one of the men cocked his head, waiting for an answer.  
  
"Kinch just got it on the radio."  
  
Hogan voiced his concern over the whole issue. "How do we know to trust you?"   
  
"You don't. Kinch trusted me," she held up the paper with the easily recognizable handwriting of the radioman, "so maybe you can trust him." Her last words had a note of pleading in them, and Newkirk realized that she must have been telling the truth.  
  
"I guess we'll have to," the leader of the group grunted, and, waving his gun in the direction of Stalag 13, headed towards Kits, who had regained her breath and was looking around the woods for the direction she came. Newkirk rolled his eyes, and lightly tapped her arm, pointing to his left.  
  
"Whoops. Guess I'll follow you guys," she whispered, and made her way down the path they were traveling.  
  
  
Once back at camp, Hogan checked with Kinch, and found the message to be true.  
  
"But why would London send us a false mission?" Hogan wondered. Kinch glanced at him, and handed him another message, this time explaining the mistake.  
  
"The Underground reported the dump, but didn't believe it to be a fake. It turns out we're quite popular among the Gestapo, and they would like nothing else to get their hands on 'Papa Bear'." Kinch ducked his head slightly, and peered upwards. "It's a good thing Kits got there, otherwise you'd be toast." Hogan grumbled a bit, but walked up to the girl who bore a lopsided-smile on her face. It wasn't hard to tell she expected an apology.  
  
"I guess you're not a spy. So, thanks," the man smiled gratefully at Kits and headed towards the ladder.   
  
Kits rolled her eyes. "Man, I didn't do nothin' but run and give y'all a message. This is almost as bad as my fanfics!"   
  
"Fanfics?" Newkirk looked at LeBeau, who shrugged in reply.  
  
"You really need to work on your own phrases," Kits suddenly started searching for something. "Has anyone seen my backpack?"  
  
"You mean this?" Carter held up her bag full of books.   
  
"Dude, thanks," Kits grinned, and to her amazement, the room started spinning again. "Cya latah!" she cried, and as she expected, a large pit opened underneath her, as it had in the morning.  
  
  
"Whoa!" Even though predicted, the teen was surprised to find herself sleeping on her desk in math.  
  
"Miss Lafner, are you paying attention?" her math teacher reprimanded her for the second time in one class period.  
  
"Sure," she answered.  
  
"What did I just say?" Ms. Highland narrowed her eyes.  
  
"Beats me. Weren't you listening?"   
  
"Pay attention, or I'll write you up!" the teacher threatened before resuming her endless lecture.  
  
"Why can't teachers have a sense of humor," Kits grumbled.   
  
"Darn. It was all a dream…" she moaned, and shoved her hands into her pockets. Frowning with confusion, she pulled out a small note. Opening the light blue paper up gently, she slowly started to smile when she read directions to somewhere on the paper. A munitions dump.  
  
A/N- Thank you for beta-reading it, everyone who did! And for the rest of you, thank you for taking time to read it. I know it was weird, had a short, pointless, pretty much mundane plot, but I tried to make it enjoyable, and mainly for when you need to laugh. Or if you need to cry, just concentrate on my poor writing skills. Anyways, someone suggested making it into a series, but I'm not sure. How about your opinions? I really don't care if I get flames, so go ahead, if you want to. Free expression, people! Cya latah, and be sure and review!  
Kits 


End file.
